


That the Best That You Got?

by AudreyRose



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Clint Barton is a cocky son of a bitch, M/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyRose/pseuds/AudreyRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing but porn. And Clint being a cocky son of a bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That the Best That You Got?

Clint let out a sound between a whimper and a yelp as he was pinned beneath Bruce. The older man smirked before bending down, his lips attacking Clint's throat. A quiet moan passed the archers lips, his head falling back against the floor. The younger mans hands roamed up and down Bruce's back as he rolled his hips up, drawing a growl from the back of the brunette's throat.

"Bruce, please, I- oh fuck," Clint gasped as Bruce bit down and rolled his hips at the same time. The archers eyes fell shut and he pressed up, baring more of his throat to the other man. He was trembling with need already and Bruce was still fully dressed, Clint himself only shirtless. "Too much, too many clothes," he uttered, his hands going to the brunettes shoulders.

"Patience, Clint," Bruce's lips brushed his ear, earning a shutter. "You'll get exactly what you want, in time," his voice was as calm and as quiet as it normally was and that drew a low moan from Clint's lips. The brunette smirked and pulled away, his hands going to Clint's belt. The dishwater blonde watched him, his hands at his side. For once Clint was unsure of what to do with his hands.

"Now, Clint, tell me what you want from me," Bruce was smirking down at the archer. His fingers trailing across the bulge making Clint gasp, his hands fisting at his sides. "Talk to me, Clint, tell me what you want me to do," Bruce pressed down with his palm, drawing another gasp and the younger man arched up.

"I-I, Bruce, need you," he whimpered, trying to push up against Bruce's hand again. He _needed_ Bruce to move, to do something. His body _itching_ for contact. _Craving_ touch. "Bruce, fuck, just..." he groaned, his head slamming back against the carpeted floor.

"I'm waiting?" Bruce smirked, pressing down again. Clint let out a noise that was a cross between a gasp and a groan. He whined, pushing his hips up again. Bruce let out a quiet tsk-ing noise and pulled his hand away. "I suppose I could leave you like thi-"

"Dammit, Banner, just fuck me already."

Bruce smirked at the desperation in Clint's voice, he ran his hands down the archers sides, earning a shiver. "Was that so hard, Clint?" he asked quietly, his fingers going back to his belt, undoing it and his jeans. Clint's fingers went to Bruce's button down as he watched Bruce with half lidded eyes. Bruce raised a brow as Clint fumbled with the buttons.

"Bruce, come on, I just need this, now," he gave up with the buttons and just pulled, buttons flying everywhere. Bruce pushed his hands away and Clint whined, his hips rolling up against the brunette's. "Banner, if you don't fuck me already."

"I liked that shirt," he sighed, shrugging it off his shoulders before pulling the archer's jeans down his legs, leaving him bare. Bruce cocked a brow at Clint. "No underwear, Clint, naughty boy," he chuckles, his fingers trailing down the archers thighs.

"Dammit Bruce, I'm about five seconds away fro- fuuuck," Clint's fingers curl in the carpet, his head falling back with a thunk. Bruce's fingers curl around him as Bruce's free hand moves, two fingers pushing into him. Clint whimpers,pushing down against the fingers. "Please, Bruce, just ah," he gasps and arches as Bruce's long fingers press against his prostate.

Bruce is smirking above the archer, watching the way his fingers curl and uncurl in the short carpet. He's trembling beneath Bruce and he just wants more, the brunette knows this but he loves working Clint up more than he should. His hand pulls away from stroking him, a strangled groan escapes the archers lips.

"Tell me again," Bruce's voice is quiet and Clint whimpers. Bruce's fingers rub over his spot again, Clint's struggling to focus. Whines and gasps passing his lips. "Clint, love, tell me again," Bruce is smirking the entire time. Clint bites down on his lip, his chest heaving.

"Bruce, please just, ah fuck," a third finger is pushed into him and he presses down. Clint can't seem to form the words and Bruce is just smirking because he knows. "Dammit, fu- oh," he whimpers as a fourth finger is added. "Please, just..." he turns his head to the side, his fingers tugging the carpet again.

Bruce pulls his fingers out, drawing another whimper from Clint. "Fuck me already," and that's all Bruce wanted to hear from those lips again. He quickly undoes his kakis, pushing them along with his boxer briefs down just enough to free his cock. Clint lets out a flustered noise in the back of his throat and Bruce spits into his hand. "Just do it al- oh," he ends with a moan as Bruce pushes into him.

"Better?" the brunette smirks as Clint pushes down against him, his legs wrapping around him. Bruce leans down, his lips attacking Clint's throat as he starts a fast hard pace, that has curses and moans of Bruce's name falling from his lips.

"Christ, Bruce," he manages, gripping the carpet like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. "Jesus, more," his hips are moving with each of Bruce's thrusts and his back arches because each on hits his prostate. The sounds that pass his lips are whimpers, whines and moans, he _feels_ everything.

Bruce's lips move from his throat to his lips, kissing him with bruising force. His hand moves between them, his long fingers wrapping around Clint's need. Clint let out a keening cry of pleasure into the kiss, his hands flying to Bruce's shoulders. The older man chuckled into his mouth, pumping him in time with his thrusts.

"Bruce, god," Clint feels the all to familiar heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. "C-Close," he mumbles against his lips. He sees the way Bruce smirks at him as he pulled away, his lips going to his throat. He feels his thrusts speed and become more erratic.

"Cum for me, Clint," he breathes in his ear, nipping slightly. Clint cried out, his body arching up against Bruce. The brunette groaned, burying his face in the crook of the archers neck, still thrusting as he clenched around him. Bruce finally came with a growl, his hips bucking twice more before he collapsed on top of Clint.

Bruce licked his lips and rolled off of the archer after a moment, both of them panting. Clint watched Bruce silently, the brunette raised a brow. "Yeah?" he asked, knowing the look on the archers face.

"That the best you got?"

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhh, can you tell how hard this was for me to write? Damn you writer's block. Should I (attempt to) write a sequel? (Please love me?)


End file.
